


Kensington Lockdown

by LadyMadrigal



Series: The Kensington Tales [7]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Queen (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27357595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMadrigal/pseuds/LadyMadrigal
Summary: It's early April 2020. It's lockdown.This is the result.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Kensington Tales [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941532
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Kensington Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> Freddie, Harvey and Smokey were all fur and feather kids of mine. Yes, the bit with the budgie actually happened. I miss my honeybug to this day. 
> 
> And I don't have a dryer, so there's always something hanging where it probably shouldn't be, drying.

“I’m gonna take my horse to the hotel room, I’m gonna ride till I can’t no more…” Crowley Deveraux-Gordon was somewhere in the back of the flat, singing along – more or less – with one of his playlists.

His singing voice wasn’t actually the issue.

“Zira?” Holly Blakemore looked amused. “You might want to tell your sweetie back there that it’s the “Old Town Road” he’s taking his horse to.”

“Taking a horse to a hotel room is something Keith Moon would have done,” Maddy Baker observed.

“Who’s Keith Moon?” Aziraphale looked confused. “I – hey!” He had reached for his angel wing mug, only to have his hand slapped away by the gray cat currently drinking from it. “Really, Mehitibel? That was _my_ tea.”

“Operative word: _was_ ,” Maddy said, laughing. They were on a Zoom call, discussing all things lockdown. SARS-COV-2 had hit the UK with a vengeance and they were starting their second week of lockdown, although the Law Offices of Beach, Lockwood and McCallister had officially shut down on 16 March, a week earlier. They all realized that they were very fortunate. Nobody was going to be laid off. They were all getting paid as usual. And they were all locked down with adoring significant others. Maddy with Queen guitarist Brian May, Holly with Beez Lord, her partner of almost two years and Aziraphale with Crowley Deveraux-Gordon, his fiancé. Aziraphale shuddered to think of his fate had he been still with the Shepards, homeless or worse, with Gabriel Messinger, his abusive ex. Even locked down alone in his miserable old flat would have been preferable to any of the above. But here he was, locked down in luxury with a sweet, gentle and breathtakingly handsome dork who he utterly adored – and who adored him in return. Even if he was messing up all the lyrics to “Old Town Road.”

“Hey angel, what’s up? Oh, hi everyone.” He was embraced from behind by Crowley, who had just gotten out of the shower. 

“Dove, I’m on Zoom,” he said, looking around, but not minding the intrusion. Crowley’s red hair was still wet, falling in half-curling tendrils over his shoulders and down his back. His skin was damp and smelled like Warm Vanilla and Shea Butter shower gel and eucalyptus shampoo, underlaid by his own scent of dark chocolate, sandalwood and cinnamon. It would have been enough to make Aziraphale lose his train of thought altogether even if Crowley hadn’t also been naked. He wasn’t exactly an exhibitionist, but, as Aziraphale had discovered early on in their relationship, he was a bit casual about things like clothing when it was just them in the flat. Not that Aziraphale really minded. 

“I can see that, angel.” Crowley waved at the others and kissed his angel’s cheek. “Don’t mind me. Just snogging my fiancé here.” He gave Aziraphale a deliberately loud, smacking kiss on the mouth.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale blushed, looking away, then back at him through demurely lowered eyelashes.

Crowley gently lifted Aziraphale’s chin. “My angel.” He kissed him quickly on the nose, then went to look for clothing.

Aziraphale was glad he’d put his laptop on the breakfast bar. The camera was just high up enough so nobody else could see what Crowley _wasn’t_ wearing. As for him, well – he had the nicest view in London at the moment. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for my black – oh heck, sweatpants…” Crowley couldn’t come up with anything but the American term for them. His mother’s side of the family was partly from New Orleans and partly from the town in Louisiana he’d been named for – Crowley. He’d actually been born in New Orleans, but had grown up in Dunfermline, Scotland.

“Almost everything you own is black. That doesn’t narrow it down,” Aziraphale said. “And you’re not going out, are you?”

“Dressed like this?” Crowley said, looking down at himself, then at Aziraphale with a sly smile. “I _might_ be.”

“You wouldn’t,” Aziraphale said. He was dressed in a tan jumper and, new for him, softly faded denims. Even in Levis, he still looked like a young angel who hadn’t quite worked out what century it was. He’d been letting his hair grow out since before lockdown and it had turned into an angelic mop of white-blonde curls that were starting to fall in a soft swoop over his left eye. He had it pulled into a little ponytail – sheep’s tail, really – at the nape of his neck.

“You want to bet?” Crowley smirked. “Don’t worry. I’ll wear a mask. I’m not stupid.” He actually had no plans to go anywhere, except maybe for a walk with his angel later, given that appropriately distanced walks were encouraged. And he actually did intend to put on clothing for that. 

“Looks like you guys are handling lockdown okay,” Maddy said. They had moved in together back in mid-December, after Aziraphale had been illegally evicted from his old flat.

“I feel bad for saying it’s kind of nice…” Aziraphale admitted, looking over at Crowley again, distracted by his fiancé’s beautiful body. He was slim, but not scrawny, with a nicely rounded arse that was on full display as he leaned over the sofa, realizing as he did that the laundry wasn’t on it. 

“But it is,” Crowley chimed in, looking around. “And where’s the stuff that was on the drying rack?”

“Chair.” Aziraphale gave him a smile that made everyone’s knees go a bit weak. “And it is only because I’m with you.”

“My angel…” Crowley came back over to kiss him, then went back to look for the outfit he had in mind.

“I thought you had a dryer,” Holly said.

“We do. But Zoom notwithstanding, Angel Face prefers to do things the old-fashioned way,” Crowley said, his voice playful and affectionately teasing rather than malicious. “Seriously, though, he does have a point. It’s not the best thing for the fabric. Clothes fall apart fast enough as it is…”

“Which is not an excuse, Lady Godiva,” Aziraphale retorted, equally playfully.

“I though he at least had pants on…” Holly said. Off camera, Crowley was both laughing and blushing while he tried to get somewhat dressed.

“He’s too much,” Maddy said with a laugh, then was interrupted by Brian.

“Hey love? How many of these yogurt papaya things do you normally give Harvey?”

“Is he eating them or storing them? And what are you doing?” She looked around.

“Bribing him out of bed so I can change his cage.”

“I’ll take him. No worries.” She got up out of the frame for a moment, returning with a rather fat, very fluffy and very cute blonde hamster who was obviously carrying some provisions in his cheeks. “And just _how_ many of those do you have in your face, Sir Fur?”

“He looks like Zira!” Holly said with a laugh.

“I think he looks more like Roger Taylor,” Brian said. “He’s the same color as Roger’s hair. Zira’s is lighter.”

Crowley, now at least clad in a black satin bathrobe, came over to look. “Nah. He’s totally Zira in hamster form. Cute, round and fluffy.” Harvey had dark garnet-colored eyes and matching pink ears, nose and paws. He looked more like a small plush toy hamster than the real thing. “That face, though. Mad, he’s adorable.”

Aziraphale put both hands over his face to hide a blush.

Harvey blinked, yawned, stretched and settled down for a nap. Maddy tucked him into the front pocket of the tartan shirt she was wearing unbuttoned over a tank top. As she did, there was a chattering, fussing sound and a clunk. She looked around as they all watched a treat stick in the budgie cage behind her disintegrate, some of it falling out to land on the floor. An annoyed bright yellow and black budgie peered out, grumbling, quite clearly, “God _damnit_.”

“Uhh, language…?” Maddy looked at the others, then back around at the bird, embarrassed.

“Did she just _swear_?” Holly, Aziraphale, Beez and Crowley all said more or less at the same time, laughing.

“Apparently…” Maddy looked at the camera, then back around at the budgie, who had been named Freddie on the mistaken assumption that only male budgies could talk. “I think I need to start watching my language when my sewing machine screws up.”

“Well, you can’t really blame her for being annoyed,” Aziraphale said. “I mean, that was her lunch.”

“What are you guys doing on Zoom?” Crowley looked around from sorting through a pile of recently washed and dried laundry on one of the chairs. “Just catching up?”

“Waiting for Ned, Jim and Eliza. But yeah, just catching up,” Aziraphale said.

“Ah.” Crowley wasn’t meaning to pry, but given the layout of their flat, there really wasn’t anywhere he wasn’t going to be overhearing everything. Aziraphale didn’t mind. The only secrets he had from Crowley involved what he was getting him for his birthday in July. And they weren’t going to be discussing cases or clients. Although Jim, Ned and Eliza were working from home, there wasn’t really anything the three secretaries and their receptionist, Vikki, could do. “Do I need to head for the bedroom?”

“No, not at all. They know you’re here,” Aziraphale said.

“And it’s not like any of us can go anywhere,” Beez added, looking over Holly’s shoulder. “So Mad, is that a hamster in your pocket or are you just really glad to see me?”

“There is a hamster in my pocket, but that doesn’t mean I’m not glad to see you.” Harvey had poked his head out, retrieved one of the yogurt papaya treats from his cheek and started eating.

“Oh shit, look at his little paws! They’re like hands!” Beez leaned closer. “That’s freaking adorable!”

“Whose little paws?” Crowley hurried back over. “Oh fuck. That does it. I want a hamster. Or gerbils.”

“What about Mehitibel?” Aziraphale looked at the cat, who had abandoned his tea and was currently snoozing in a sunbeam on the rug. “And a couple of gay blokes buying gerbils isn’t going to look good.”

“Whoever came up with that bullshit story never had a pet gerbil. Those little claws are _sharp_. You wouldn’t want one anywhere near any sensitive part of your anatomy,” Crowley said. “And you know Mehitibel. The only thing she hunts is an easier way of life.”

“You’ve had pet gerbils?” Aziraphale looked at him. “They _are_ cute.” He didn’t need to explain to any of them that the only pet he’d ever had was Mehitibel, who had taken to him with the same surpassing adoration that her person had. Even if she did drink out of his mug.

“The first pet I had that was totally mine that I could actually hold and play with was a gerbil,” Crowley said. “Back in Grade Six, we had a tank with I think ten goldfish and a gerbil named Smokey as class pets. Well, at the end of the year, our teacher told us that ten lucky kids, with a note from their parents, could each take home a goldfish, and one _very_ lucky kid would take home Smokey. I thought I might get a fish out of the deal, but when I asked that night, my mom and dad both asked which one I _really_ wanted. Of course, I said the gerbil. So my mom said “Sure!” and wrote a note for the teacher. I ran into class the next day hoping I wasn’t too late, but nobody else’s parents had said yes. So my mom picked me and Smokey up that afternoon and my dad had gone out and bought a cage and had it waiting for us at home. And – I had him for close to four and a half years. Wanna see a picture?!” Without waiting for a response, he hurried off to the bedroom in a swirl of black satin, returning a moment later with a shoebox. “Hold it…here! There he is. Look at that face. Just ignore the ugly bloke with him.” The “ugly bloke” was of course, a sweet-looking, not at all ugly and very young Crowley, holding a plump, sweet-faced and rather bewildered agouti gerbil belly-up to the camera with a huge smile. “That was they day we brought him home.”

“I really want to tickle that belly,” Maddy said.

“Aw, Look at the gerbil feets…” Holly said.

“You have a picture of your pet gerbil from when you were eleven?” Beez said.

“I have a bunch of them,” Crowley said.

Beez shook their head. “Zira, if you don’t marry this dork, one of us is going to have to.”

“He’s my dork. You can’t have him,” Aziraphale retorted, pulling Crowley over for a kiss. 

There was a little announcing beep as Ned Lockwood joined the call, followed seconds later by Jim and Eliza.

“Ned? What the _fuck_ are you doing?” Jim said.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Zooming in a hot tub.”

“You’re very perceptive today, Jimbo.”

“You better hope you don’t drop your laptop,” Aziraphale said.

“Smart TV. It’s all good,” Ned said.

“You can Zoom on a smart TV?” Crowley said.

“Totally,” Ned said.

“Well, everyone’s looking good. How has lockdown been so far?” Jim said.

“Mehitibel hates it. She has to put up with us here all the time now,” Crowley said.

“I don’t think she hates it. And the plants we brought home are all doing well,” Aziraphale said.

“Great. I didn’t want to go back to a bunch of dead ones. That would have been even more depressing,” Jim said. The morning the lockdown had been announced had been an anxious one, to say the least. So little was known about this virus, and what was known was bad, indeed. Aziraphale’s mother and aunt had already shut down their Soho shop, hoping to be able to subsist off of savings and online sales (not yet knowing that Freddie Mercury had asked Jim to help him make sure that the rent for the shop and flat above would be covered through years end) when Jim had made the decision to shut the offices down until further notice.

There was another polite chime as Vikki Barrett, their receptionist, joined.

“Hey Vikki. Are you ready to smack my cousin senseless yet?” Maddy said. Her cousin Carlton was currently stuck in the UK for the duration, unable to leave thanks to a travel ban that had been put into place with too little notice for him to get a flight out. Evicted from the hotel, he had ended up with Vikki, who he was in the beginning stages of a relationship with.

“No, he’s like really nice and all!” she chirped in reply, obviously meaning it. Even Crowley had to admit that Carlton was in fact an okay bloke – just rather dense. As his grandmother would have put it, he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the hallway, but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

“He’s not a bad person at all. I think you’ll be very good for him,” Holly said.

“I’m turning the Keurig on, angel. Okay?” Crowley said.

“Go ahead.” Aziraphale looked around to smile at him.

“You want some cocoa, love?”

“Please. Just not in the mug the cat was drinking out of.”

“You two are even more adorable at home,” Holly said.

“I’m going to need an insulin pump if I have to keep watching all this soppy sweet stuff,” Beez grumbled good-naturedly, rolling their eyes.

“I’ll moon you,” Crowley threatened.

“I’ll smack you.” Aziraphale picked up a blue nylon spatula.

“Promises, promises.” Crowley stuck his tongue out at him.

“Jim, I hope you didn’t have an actual agenda for this…” Maddy looked around as Freddie the budgie started banging a small toy lantern off the side of her cage and chirping – loudly. “Hey, imp? Use your indoor voice, please.”

Jim laughed, along with the others. “Don’t worry. You’re all fine. This isn’t strictly work-related. I thought it might be good to check in and see how we’re all holding up.”

“We’re just fine,” Holly said. “I think Toby’s loving it.” Toby was their dog.

“Zira’s got a sourdough starter going,” Crowley said, coming over and setting a different mug down by his angel. “He’s been baking like crazy.” He leaned over to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Crowley just planted spinach, kale, tomatoes and hot and sweet peppers,” Aziraphale said. “Either nothing is going to come of any of it or I’m going to be frantically trying to figure out how to pickle jalapenos come about September. I didn’t realize canning jars were so expensive!” Ever-practical, he’d been looking into it already.

“My mom used to can just about everything,” Maddy said. “The whole house would turn into a steam bath between cooking all the stuff and whatever she was doing canning, especially tomatoes.” She rather wished she’d paid more attention now that Aziraphale was thinking of doing it.

“I think my Aunt Celeste did, too,” Crowley said. “My other grandad – Grandpa Seymour – used to give everyone jars of his special recipe pickles and dilly beans, but mom always threw them out when he wasn’t around.”

“Why?” the others all said more or less in unison.

“He didn’t know what the – heck – he was doing and she was afraid he was going to give someone food poisoning,” Crowley said. “She’d tell me and my sisters that canning was a science, not an improv.”

“Your mom is a very smart woman,” Maddy said.

“And what are dilly beans?” Jim was coming up with several ideas, none of which were particularly appetizing.

“Pickled string beans.” Crowley made a face.

“In other words, you, but drunk,” Beez couldn’t resist.

“I – really wish I could argue with that…” Crowley had to laugh.

“I’d rather deal with him drunk than actual pickled beans.” Aziraphale said, remembering a rather spirited sozzled debate they’d gotten into over whether or not dolphins could learn to speak Welsh. He had _no_ idea how that had come up. 

Crowley laughed, opening the refrigerator to get milk.

“Oh bugger. Did we clean out the refrigerator in the office?” Jim said, realizing.

“Uh – I didn’t…” Aziraphale had been too busy helping label the plants they couldn’t move. An email had gone out that last morning in the office asking that all plants that weren’t being removed be labeled with their company and location. The head of the janitorial staff was having them all moved to the atrium so they could be looked after.

“Oops…” Holly said. “Well, we didn’t turn it off, so…”

“What was in it?” Aziraphale said.

“I – don’t remember,” Jim admitted. “I’m pretty sure something was.”

“And I’m pretty sure it will have developed sentience by the time we’re back in the office,” Maddy said darkly.

“Maybe we can hire it as a network administrator,” Eliza deadpanned.

“Uh, about that – Chase isn’t coming back,” Jim said. “After that last debacle just before the shutdown, I let him go. I hated to do it, but…” He shrugged. “We need someone who knows what they’re doing. I interviewed someone yesterday who I think will be an excellent fit, and he accepted my offer to start as soon as we open back up, so yeah – I’m happy. The other thing is that Prue isn’t coming back as office manager. I still haven’t interviewed for that position yet.”

Crowley looked around at the *plop* of their saber-leaf ficus dropping a leaf. “Hey! None of that. Grow better!”

“You have to talk nice to them,” Aziraphale said.

“It’s called tough love, angel.” Crowley glared at the errant plant. “Two words. Garbage disposal.”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“What do you have in your mouth?” That was Beez. “Hey! Come back here! Gimme!” She chased after Toby as Holly looked around.

“What does he have?” She looked from the camera to the direction Beez and Toby had vanished in, then back again.

“Why is there a pineapple in the fridge?” Crowley said.

“Because Waitrose substituted it for the avocados I ordered,” Aziraphale said. “I don’t even know how to peel it.”

“I don’t think you peel a pineapple. Or do you?” Jim said.

“Hey, pineapple’s good,” Crowley said.

“Not for guacamole.” Aziraphale looked unhappy.

“Hawaiian guacamole,” Crowley suggested.

“Uh – no.” Aziraphale shook his head. “And if you suggest putting it on a pizza, I really am going to spank you.”

“What kind of a barbarian do you take me for?” Crowley did a good job of sounding offended. He held the pineapple up. “Alas, poor pineapple. I knew him, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale broke into his wheezy little squeak of a laugh.

Holly returned with Toby, saying. “Okay, _what_ did you just eat?”

Jim, meanwhile, was glaring at the mobile he’d just answered. “It seems the people trying to reach you about your vehicle’s extended warranty aren’t on lockdown after all.”

“I thought you didn’t have a car,” Aziraphale said.

“I don’t,” Jim said.

“What did he eat?” Maddy asked Holly.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Holly held the dog up to look at him. “Bee! Where did he come from and is anything missing?”

“The kitchen and yes. The pickle I was about to put on my sandwich.” Beez returned, looking a bit dismayed. “Are pickles bad for dogs?”

“They’re not like healthy or anything, but they’re not toxic,” Crowley said, abandoning the pineapple in favor of an apple from the crisper and bringing one over to Aziraphale. “Want one?”

“Isn’t this how bad things start?” Aziraphale picked it up.

“I never understood why knowing the difference between good and evil was a bad thing,” Crowley said. “And seriously? Why put the tree in the middle of the Garden if nobody was supposed to mess with it? Why not put it up on top of a mountain or in the middle of the desert or something?”

“I have to remind myself not to get hives from questions like that anymore,” Aziraphale said, looking a bit anxious anyway. “Those were the sort of things one Did Not Say around the Shepards.”

~*~

Later, Crowley was sitting on the sofa watching rain start to patter against the huge windows, with his very content cat curled up next to him and his equally content angel nestled in his arms.

“So much for taking a walk later,” he said.

“Is it raining?” Aziraphale looked around from finalizing a Waitrose delivery order. Thanks to their having regular delivery set up, they were able to secure a slot with ease.

“Just started.” Crowley watched as Aziraphale hit “place order.”

“I feel bad that you can’t be with your family, though.” Aziraphale abandoned the tablet and snuggled closer.

“It’s not forever, angel. This virus will burn itself out sooner or later.” He kissed Aziraphale softly. “And who says I’m not? You, me and Pussy Galore here makes three.” The remark earned him a mildly annoyed _ffft_ from Mehitibel.

Aziraphale looked at him, wide-eyed. “You…?”

“What?” Crowley said, suddenly worried.

“I…it’s stupid, I know. I just still sometimes can’t believe anyone wants me around like this.” Aziraphale said, looking down.

“I want you by my side forever.” Crowley kissed him softly.

“Oh Crowley…” Aziraphale nestled back against him. “Dr. Hodges wants you to join me for my next session.” Dr. Mary Hodges was his therapist. He’d been put in her care after the botched kidnapping had resulted in a panic attack so severe that he’d almost needed to be taken to A&E. Aziraphale was reasonably sure he was beyond help, but she was nice and seemed to really want to try. Thanks to lockdown, their sessions were now via Zoom.

“I do hope I pass muster with her,” Crowley said. “She sounds like she’s really helping you.”

“She thinks you’re really good for me.” Aziraphale looked down, ashamed. “I – I talk about you. I mean…”

“I don’t mind.” Crowley kissed the top of his angel’s head. “It’s going to be kind of hard not to. I mean, we are together.”

Aziraphale looked back up. “I just want to be the best husband I can be.”

“You’re the best boyfriend anyone could have. I don’t think anything’s going to change when we’re married.” Crowley said, kissing his nose. “We should plan our wedding now, while we have time.” He sighed. “I was thinking of some big huge blowout thing this summer, but I’m not so sure that’s going to be a good idea now. I don’t think this virus is going to burn itself out as quickly as everyone thinks. I wanted my family there, and Rose and Tracy and your dad when we find him and – everyone.”

Aziraphale looked away, then back. “Could we – maybe – just get married when everything opens back up and then do like a big party or whatever later?”

“Hey…” Crowley looked thoughtful. “That would be a lot less stressful. If you want to, we could do the whole walk down the aisle, cake and party thing then, like on our anniversary or something. I think I really like that idea.” He knew that Aziraphale had wedding dreams of the kind most people ascribed to young girls and hated to see him have to give them up altogether. Besides, Freddie was adamant about planning _something._

And really, it did sound like fun.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up. “Then we could have a big seaside wedding after all, more or less, and we wouldn’t have to worry about whether they could do it there or not!”

“There’s a place near Caansfield called Seaside Village that’s just adorable. We’ve gone there on holiday. We’ll rent one of the beach houses, invite everyone…”

“That sounds wonderful!” Aziraphale kissed him. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all…


End file.
